


Peter + Explosions = A Worried Irondad

by Readytofightandloveforall



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bullying, Explosions, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad Bingo 2019, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 07:15:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19194241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readytofightandloveforall/pseuds/Readytofightandloveforall
Summary: "She isn't picking up," the nurse sighed, as if she had really hoped and expected that May would suddenly pick up her call after she missed the last twenty-seven. "Is there anyone else I can try contact for you?""There is, actually, but there's no need to contact me since I'm already here."Tony Stark entered the tiny, whitewashed room the same way he did everything else: like he owned it. "I received an alert that his vitals were off the charts," he continued by way of explanation, reaching Peter in three broad strides and examining the bandages for himself, no doubt checking that no injuries had been missed and that he was taken care of properly. "It said he got badly burned and was in need of medical attention, so I came as quickly as possible."





	Peter + Explosions = A Worried Irondad

Peter sat anxiously in the nurses office, tapping his foot in a frantic rhythm. Usually when he was this panicked with nothing else to fiddle with, he would also resort to biting his finger-nails, but the bandages wrapped securely around his hands and arms up to his elbows, as well as the numbing, but still flaring pain, made that rather difficult.

Across the room, the nurse was still attempting to contact his aunt, despite him explaining many times that she was at work. He knew she wouldn't be picking up anytime soon.

Part of him was relieved. The other was hiding disappointment that no one was coming for him.

"She isn't picking up," the nurse sighed, as if she had really hoped and expected that May would suddenly pick up her call after she missed the last twenty-seven. "Is there anyone else I can try contact for you?"

Peter looked down at the white covering his skin in shame. What was he supposed to say? That no, no one is coming because he was just some orphan, with only his poor, overworked aunt who never asked for or deserved the trouble he caused her. But he can't say that. He knows he can't. She's a highschool nurse. Not his therapist. Better cut it down to a simple "no" and hope that Ned will take pity on him later and ask his mom if they can drive Peter home since he can't take the subway alone or go webslinging without the use of his hands. Before he even opened his mouth he could see the pity in her eyes and felt his shame burn stronger, but then he was caught off guard by a familiar voice that both relieved and confused him to no end. 

"He does, actually, but there's no need to contact me since I'm already here." 

The woman spluttered in shock at the sight in the doorway, and Peter would have joined her if he wasn't busy feeling hope and gratitude swell inside him, his face cracking a small smile. 

Tony Stark entered the tiny, white washed room the same way he did everything else; like he owned it. 

"Oh my-what in - what are you - what-" The nurse took a moment to compose herself, then began again. "Mister Stark! What - what a pleasure it is to meet you! But - what are you... doing...here?"

"I'm here for my kid," he replied as if it should be obvious, whiping off his colourful sunglasses and turned to take in Peter's appearance, eyes softening at the sorry sight Peter was sure he made. "I received an alert that his vitals were off the charts," he continued by way of explanation, reaching Peter in three broad strides and examining the bandages for himself, no doubt checking that no injuries had been missed and that he was taken care of properly. "It said he got badly burned and was in need of medical attention, so I came as quickly as possible." 

The nurse snapped her head sideways to look at Peter at the words "my kid" in shocked confusion. Peter knew that no one actually believed he knew Tony Stark, not even the teachers, and obviously this woman was in on the staff room gossiping circle (that every student in the school was convinced existed, because in the end, adults aren't any better than children), had heard his "lies" and agreed with everyone else that it was for attention. He almost laughed at the look on her face as she forced herself to mumble ".. of course.." with a pained smile. 

"So," Tony began, placing a gentle hand on Peter's shoulder that had been left unharmed. "Mind telling me how this happened?" 

Peter was mostly certain that the question was aimed at him, but either way, the nurse quickly jumped in, obviously desperate to speak to the billionaire for as long as possible, and began to tell the basic, quick version of the tale (because she didn't actually know that much other than the burns on his arms). 

"So you see, you can't really blame the boy much, can you? If anything, I'd be proud of him; jumping in the way to protect his classmates." 

Tony glanced between the nurse and his kid, taking note of the uncharacteristic pissed-off expression Peter was giving her as she spoke. 

Was jumping in the way of danger for the sake of others a very Peter-like thing to do? Yes, he wouldn't doubt it for a second, but there was something this woman got wrong. He could tell by Peter's reaction alone. 

He blinked when he realised she had stopped talking and clapped his hands together. 

"Well, thanks for everything, but I really have to get the kid home. Are there any other injuries beside the obvious ones? And... what do I have to do to be able to get him out of here?" 

The nurse visibly deflated, not even trying to hide her dissappointment."Oh, he's fine. You just need to sign him out at the office," she said in a much more flat tone, and with that Tony was steering Peter out of the office and flinging his backpack over his shoulder. 

"You OK, kid?" he whispered once they turned the corner and there was no one else there to witness the cold-hearted Tony Stark let his walls collapse for a teenage boy with puppy-dog eyes and bandaged arms. 

"Oh, me? I'm fine - Great, actually. I got an A on my history test, and there's supposed to be a decathlon competition coming up that MJ is gonna let me go to even though I haven't been to practise recently, or on time, ever. There's also a new substitute for English but-"

"Peter." 

Peter snapped his mouth shut and felt his face flare in embarrassment. Was he ever going to grow out of his nervous rambling? God, he hoped so. 

"You know what I meant." 

Taking in the concerned light in Tony's eyes and the hard worry lines of his face was enough to break him, because, yes, he did know what he meant. But he hated to worry him. 

".. It.. It doesn't hurt that much, really. It's probably mostly gone now. Spider-healing, and all." 

Peter could tell that the words coming from his mouth were utter bullshit, especially with the way they reminded him of the pain still streaking across his skin under the layers of white that screamed louder as he thought of it. He could tell Tony didn't buy it either, but mercifully kept his mouth shut until they reached the car. He tossed his backpack in the back then opened the passenger side door for Peter to navigate climbing in carefully without any hands. 

Once settled, he cautiously watched Tony round the car after closing the door for him and climb in behind the steering wheel, and, to his utter humiliation, lean over and buckle him in. Like a three-year-old in a booster seat. Dear God. And yet, Tony didn't mention it; In fact, he didn't say anything until they pulled up in the drive-through of some fast food place Peter didn't bother lifting his head to check the name of, fifteen minutes later. 

"Here," Tony said gently. "Think you can hold it?"

He did lift his head at that moment, though, in curiosity and surprise at his mentors voice. He was even more shocked to discover that Tony was holding out a tub of ice cream with a bright red plastic spoon protruding from the top out to him with an encouraging smile on his face, only a tinge of awkwardness to it. It was that moment that confirmed for Peter what Tony wanted to discuss; he only seemed visibly uncomfortable like this when it came to talking about feelings, although he had made incredible progress since the two met. His mouth suddenly felt very dry. 

"Ye-yeah. Yeah, I've got it, it's fine. Thank you, Tony." 

He carefully reached forward and took the plastic cup into his bandaged hands, his fingers capable of just enough movement to wrap around it slightly, his spider powers making sure it didn't slip from his grasp. He carefully set it down on his lap, using his left hand to keep it in place while his right worked on prying the spoon from the not-yet-softened treat. 

Usually he would be more frustrated that his injuries prevented him from simply pulling a spoon from ice cream when he had literal superstrength before they arrived outside his apartment, but those thoughts were quickly dashed when he was trying to force the burning embarrassment from his face while Tony carefully slid the tub in his hands into his own and once again leaned over to unbuckle his seat belt. Like he was a child.

(Even if, technically, he is a child, but he's not a really young child that regularly needs things like this done for them, so he had a right to be upset, Peter concluded.)

Tony once again opened his door and helped him out, grabbing his bag from the back seat before they headed for the front of the building together. Tony stayed by his side as they entered the rundown lobby, grimacing at the drab decore as they passed, but didn't comment. He also climbed beside him as they trudged up the stairs to his apartment and, to his surprise, stayed, rather than just dropping his bag and leaving like he had expected. He did, though, comment.

"Christ, kid. You climb that everyday?" he gasped as he gripped the couch, leaning over in exaggerated exhaustion. "I gotta get that elevator fixed or I won't be able to visit anymore. It's like Everest."

Peter laughed before he could stop himself, and Tony was both relieved and delighted by the sound.

"I'm pretty sure you're just old, Mr Stark."

Tony grinned and swung an arm around his shoulder, drawing him closer as he ruffled his hair.

"You're a real little shit, you know that Parker?" He drew back and looked at Peter with mock-seriousness, but there were traces of poorly veiled amusment in his tone. "And don't call me "Mr Stark," it makes me feel old."

"Sure thing, Mr Stark." 

Tony gave him a look, but the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. 

"Go get changed," he said, playfully nudging him in the direction of his room. "Something comfy. We'll have a movie night until your aunt gets home."

He casually stepped around the couch and collapsed back into the worn cushions with ease while Peter blinked in surprise. "Oh."

"Oh? Do you not want to-"

"No no!" he hurried to correct himself. "I just figured you'd just drop me home and leave. I didn't expect you'd want to... y'know, hang around."

Tony chuckled. "Come on kid, you know I love hanging out with my favourite spiderling." He paused in thought. "And I also know the repercussions if Aunt Hottie finds out I left you here alone when you're injured. Believe me, it is not pretty."

Peter smiled at that. May's overprotective nature could be annoying at times, but he wouldn't say it's uncalled for, and seeing the Great Tony Stark fear her rath was rather amusing.

"That's fair," he agreed, turning towards his room. "Just don't eat all the ice cream and doritoes while I'm gone!"

Attempting to change his clothes was another experience that made Peter long for the use of his hands. The movement triggered more pain, and in turn, frustration that he couldn't accomplish the simplest of tasks in less than twenty minutes.

When he reappeared at the living room entrance in his pyjamas (despite it not even being five pm yet), his mood had soured and his enthusiasm drained. He was stopped dead in his tracks, however, by the sight that greeted him. Because on the floor, in front of their outdated TV, sat the one and only Tony Stark - in a pillow fort. He snorted in delighted surprise and slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his giggles, regretting the action for only a moment.

"Pete!" Tony cried happily when he caught sight of him, gesturing for him to join him in the nest of blankets and pillows he had built. "Come on over kiddo, there's enough room for both of us."

Peter happily obliged and sank into the sea of softness with his mentor. He gazed up at the red and green throw-blanket that May received from Ben for Christmas one year that was now acting as their roof and smiled. It was far too scratchy for his overly sensitive skin after he gained his powers, so it was often abandoned during family moments, leading to the festering of Peter's guilt that he couldn't enjoy something he used to share with his family when it was whole. But now, it was there, as if protecting him from the outside world. Just as Tony was doing.

"Is it OK?" Tony asked suddenly, and Peter realised he had been silent since he entered the room while Tony watched him carefully. "I know I'm a brilliant inventor, but I've never really done the whole fort thing."

Peter observed the structure again. The ceiling was holding up and didn't seem in danger of collapsing in on them, there was enough space for both of them to sit comfortably, whether they chose to sit far apart or closer together, and the endless sea of blankets and pillows were soft enough against his skin that he didn't feel any discomfort. He didn't even try to surpress his grin.

"It's perfect," he replied in awe, a childlike wonder sparkling in his eyes that only appears whenever something amazing happens; like meeting his heroes for the first time, or working on something he loves in the lab, or having a little kid thank him and say he's their "most favourite and the bestest hero" - and Tony finds himself desperate to keep it there. 

"Gimme a sec," he says instead of voicing his thoughts, ducking out of the fort only to appear a moment later with Peter's uneaten ice cream in one hand, a popsicle and a family sized bag of doritoes in the other.

Peter takes it from him eagerly, carful not to drop it as he sets it in his lap like before. It was yet to be melted to a puddle, the coldness and clouding of the plastic cup proving Tony thought to preserve it in the freezer for him, which is also where he must have found the popsicle.

Peter once again reached for the spoon, and to his great relief, he was able to grip it properly and remove it. Looks like his healing was finally kicking in now that he wasn't under the stress of the nurses office.

"Peter," Tony began hesitantly, and suddenly Peter remembered what Tony wanted to talk about earlier. "Can I ask you something?"

He swallowed nervously and started to fidget with the spoon as his mentor turned to look at him. "Sure."

"How did this really happen?"

He remained silent for a moment, contemplating his answer, but it must have been a moment too long.

"Pete?"

He decided on the truth.

"...Flash."

"What?"

"... It was...Flash. Thomson. You know that jerk that I told you about? Yeah...It was him."

"Ok...do you want to tell me about it?"

Peter took another deep breath to steady himself, because yes, he really did want to tell Tony about what happened.

"We were doing a chemistry experiment," he began, and saw Tony shift closer to him out of the corner of his eye as he kept his gaze firmly in his fidgeting hands. "And there was a prize for whichever group did the best job and finished the fastest - that kind of stuff - and Flash was in the group working at the desk next to mine. Anyways, me and my group were doing pretty well. We had most of the steps done, everything seemed to be working as it was supposed to, and Flash's group seemed to be doing good, too, from what I could tell, but I guess not as good as ours? Or just...not as fast? Whatever happened, they started rushing around the room trying to get things done, but they couldn't quite manage to catch up to us, and the next thing I know, Flash is looking me with this grin on his face and I notice this beaker next to me that we hadn't been using before and then my Spidey-sense is screaming and I just... act. I pushed Ned and the others behind me, but before I could do more than put my arms infront of my face, it exploded, and the teacher started screaming for the nurse...apparently it was some acidic compound, a strong one too, but I wasn't told exactly what it consisted of."

Tony stayed silent for a long while once he finished talking. He simply sat and observed him, taking in every detail as if he would vanish suddenly without warning. Peter squirmed in discomfort.

"He threw acid at you," he said at last, a dangerous edge to his voice.

"Well, maybe he - maybe he didn't mean to - or - or he just put it in the wrong place, or just didn't- didn't know what was in it 'n' thought it was something else - something harmless - it could've been a genuine acci-"

"Peter," Tony snapped forcefully. "He threw acid at you - Hell, he could have scarred you for life - he could have blinded you! How are you defending him!?" Peter fell silent.

Tony sighed and ran a hand down his face, self-loathing already brewing when he saw how ashamed he looked (as if he had done something wrong, rather than try to keep his classmates out of harms way), and he realised his tone was one he heard far too often from Howard. Peter deserved better than what Howard Stark made him. 

"I'm sorry kid," he whispered finally, tugging Peter gently into his chest for a hug. "You know I'm not angry at you."

It wasn't perfect, by any means. They were both new at giving and receiving affection from one another. Their elbows bumped, and finding a comfortable position was always awkward, but recently, slotting themselves together when one of them needed it became ever so slightly easier, and they found fitting together became smoother, more natural. This time was no different. Peter took his newfound favourite spot (after some awkward squirming and shifting on both parts), his head turned to the side, ear pressed down directly above Tony's heart, listening to it beat reassuringly. Tony wrapped his arm tighter around him, his lithe frame making it easier for his hand to reach across his back to his arm where he moved his thumb patiently up and down in rhythm. His other hand came to rest at the base of his neck, bringing him closer, hovering uncertainly for a moment. 

"He loves it when you play with his hair," May revealed to him once with a chuckle. "He'll never admit it, of course, but once you start he just sort of melts and curls into you, like a kitten." She had paused then, gazing into the distance with a look in her eye that suggested she was far away, years away, back in a simpler time. "It feels like...he's trusting you with everything...like he really believes you could do anything..." She snapped out of her trance, but her smiles came more strained, more longing for the times she had imagined. "But he only really does it in his sleep now. Or when he's upset. Otherwise he seems to feel the need to remind me he isn't a baby anymore." She tried to laugh again, but there was both pain and fondness in it. It was at that moment that Tony realised how unfair he had been to May, knowingly keeping information about her own child - her only remaining family - from her. 

Tony wondered if he was allowed to play with Peter's hair. He supposedly liked it when he was upset and tired, but that was with May. Were he and Tony there yet? Would it just spook him? He ruffled his hair all the time, but this was different; less playful and more...intimate. Parental.

'Don't fuck this up,' a voice hissed from the back of his mind. 'Don't freak him out. Just be grateful he's OK with the hugging.'

He settled his hand on the base of his neck. As he always does. 

"Do you really think he did it on purpose?" Peter mumbled after a while of comfortable silence.

"Well, judging from what you've previously told me about this kid, yeah, I think he could've...But, you do know him better than me.What do you think? What do your instincts say?"

Peter stilled in his arms, and for a heart stopping moment Tony thought he had said something wrong. He pulled away from his mentor in silence and looked down at his lap thoughtfully. Tony watched his face for any signs of distress, but there were none, only careful consideration.

"I think..." he started after he apparently had enough time to organise his thoughts. "I believe Flash thought the acid was weaker than it was."

For a second Tony was outraged. The person who hurt his kid was being forgiven just like that? He wouldn't stand for it. Flash Thompson needed to be punished. But his revenge schemes were stopped in their tracks when Peter finally lifted his head to meet his eyes, and reflected in pools of melted chocolate, endless kindness and bravery, there was anger and a startling certainty.

"But I do think he knew what he was doing. He meant to hurt me, or at least hurt someone. Even if he didn't plan on it being this bad, he put it near us intending to cause harm."

Tony sat shellshocked at Peter's statement before he snapped back to reality. He placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"Do you want to take this up with the school?" 

Peter seemed to deflate at that. "Is there any point? No one saw what happened. Everyone probably assumes I'm the one who was messing around with chemicals and caused the explosion. Flash's parents will probably accuse me of being jealous and trying to "tarnish their son's reputation," or whatever it was they said to the last kid that talked about Flash's bullying, and I'll just end up being the one punished since I'm obviously just the "troubled kid there on a scholarship"... or whatever it is they call me." 

Normally Tony would be preparing to go on a warpath at these injustices, but this was a matter of influence, and he was Tony Stark. He had plenty of that. 

Peter's face twisted into confusion as a shark like grin split Tony's at the thought. "Don't worry Pete," he hummed happily. "I'll handle it. I just need to call Pepper to make sure I have permission."

"Handle it? Permission for...what?"

"I just plan on having a little talk with Mr Thomson and his parents about their son's behaviour, suggest to the principal that he keeps a closer eye on him, and make a few vague threats about if no changes are made."

Tony finally unwrapped his popsicle that had been lying abandoned next to him and casually began to suck on it as Peter gaped at him. 

"Oh, come on, Kid!" he exclaimed once he caught sight of his expression. "I won't go over the top or anything. I won't even wear the ironman suit. Not even the gauntlet!" 

Peter still looked uncertain, so he quickly added "I promise!" and ruffled his hair again for good measure. This seemed to calm him at least somewhat, and Tony took that as his cue to end the emotional conversation. After all, he would have revenge as soon as he arranged a meeting with the principal and the Thomsons, and thanks to the wonders of super healing, Peter should be mostly healed by tomorrow. He made a mental note to order food later. Wasn't Peter raving about this new Thai place he and May fell in love with recently? 

"Well, that's enough feelings for one evening! Ready to watch some Star Wars?"

Peter finally seemed to relax at the prospect of beginning their movie night, his eager smile lighting up the room, 

"If I ever say no to that question, take me out. It's an imposter."

They both settled back into eachother, leaning against the couch and endless cushions behind them for support while Peter curled himself back into Tony's side and Tony tracked down the remote from underneath numerous layers of blankets. Once settled, they picked back up their treats and gave their attention to the screen. 

Peter smiled as vanilla burst across his tongue at long last. 

It was much later that night, after they had completed almost every activity they could think of doing in the small apartment that wouldn't result in further injuries, that Peter finally fell asleep. They had just finished watching The Princess Bride (A favourite for both of them) for the third time when Tony realised the boy beside him had relaxed fully and was leaning against him with his full weight, his breathing turned deep and slow. He looked down at Peter and smiled. 

Carefully he pulled the giant bag of doritoes from his grasp before they tipped and spilled all over the Parkers floor, and tugged the blanket lying tediously on his shoulders over further.  
He was rewarded with an unconscious smile gently caressing the youngers face, reminding him once again how innocent he was.

'Innocent,' his mind supplied. 'But not naive.'

For once Tony had to agree. The child in front of him and seen many hardships; Faced far too many. He knew what cruel humor the world had, yet faced it with a smile. Loved it anyway. Protected it.

Tony felt a rush of pride for Peter, accompanied by a desperate longing to protect him that was beginning to feel too familiar. But he couldn't protect him from everything. He knew he couldn't. He couldn't even protect him from a jackass fifteen-year-old, for Christ's sake. All he could do was hold him tighter at that moment and do his best. Even if it wasn't good enough. 

His thumb traced soothing circles in Peters arm as he sighed in his sleep and snuggled closer, his ear pressed down above his heart. His other hand hovered briefly over his curles. 

It settled on the base of his neck. 

Maybe some day.

**Author's Note:**

> Basically this is a series (my first work with multiple chapters!) of situations where Peter gets caught in explosions and Tony takes care of him (and freaks out).
> 
> Thanks for reading and please give feedback! 
> 
> Hope you liked it!


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